Just Pretend
by Screefox
Summary: Finally, the sequel to 'Armies Against Me' arrives! There's love, anger, betrayal, and all those other emotions you crave in a fic!


**Authors Note:** I am so, so sorry this has taken so long! This is about my forth attempt at writing this sequel, so please bear with me! I had it completely finished twice; the first times I read through and realised there were plot holes you could store planets in, the last, my computer died moments before I could save it to disk.

Anyway, onto the legalities. All hail JKR. These are her creations, not mine, and the only profit I make from these stories is writing practice and feedback. Please don't sue me; I don't have anything of value anyway. I'll try hard not to stain them, maim them or leave your toys in compromising positions for extended periods of time.

Remember, don't read it just to flame. I love constructive feedback, but otherwise, please don't waste your time.

On with the show… Be prepared for angst, angry dead Ron, and a very irked and bitter Harry (I mean, how would you feel if you'd had to save the world as a teenager, after that world treated you like you were crazy???). But there will be a happy ending. I'm almost sure of it. Maybe.

**Chapter One:** Aftermath

_As I held you with our undry eyes_

_As the years pass by_

_It's ok to cry_

_After all, in the end, just pretend._

"It was you, Hermione. Always you." Ron's hand traced the curve of her face, and she moved into his touch almost desperately. He kissed her, all the desire and intensity and grief pouring into this one act, his hands moving to wipe away her tears.

"I couldn't love anyone but you, Hermione. You're my world, my everything." His voice changed, oh so subtly that for one moment, she didn't notice. "I _loved_ you, 'Mione! And how do you repay a life of servitude, of following you round like some idiot mutt? You go and fall straight into my _brother's_ arms! I was barely cold, you bitch!" The blow, as always, took her by surprise, and even as her dream self fell towards the ground, Hermione Granger bolted upright in her bed, sweating and terrified.

It was to be another long, sleepless night.

St Mungo's was the saddest place on earth; she mused as she readied a tray of potions and made her way towards her ward. On the one hand, new life is born screaming into existence in a magical wave of love and wonder; on the other, life ends with a gasp and a twitch in the stillness and darkness. Worse still, it was purgatory for so many victims of a Gods awful war. She watched sadly as Neville Longbottom, war hero and sweet, shy boy, squared his shoulders and went to visit his parents. She knew the routine by heart. He'd ready himself before walking in, a smile plastered firmly upon his face as he regaled his parents with stories about his day, his life, his blossoming romance with a little blond girl with large, dream filled eyes. His parents, of course, wouldn't understand a word of it; half the time they had no idea who the poor boy was. Still he'd come in three or four times a week to visit. Afterwards, though he obviously needed time to compose himself, he would visit with the rest of the ward, transfiguring flowers and get well cards for those with nothing but a barren bench top, smuggling sweets in for the children the war had obviously forgotten; the ones maimed and sent mad by the fury of their attackers. Occasionally, he'd even perform some muggle magic tricks for them, or bring toys. And finally, when he could look into their eyes no more, he would wish them well, and pay a brief visit to Fred Weasley. He would shake hands with all in the room, offering a hug to Molly Weasley as though he'd known her his entire life, and open a bag to reveal a large, hearty meal.

Sweet boy that he was, Neville knew the family rarely left that dimly lit room. He knew, like so many others knew, that the Weasley family were trapped in that purgatory moment of grief, struggling to find a way to the other side. He'd even offer to stay with Fred while the family went home and freshened up, though he knew they would never agree.

Squaring her own shoulders, the nurse plastered on a half smile and opened the door to the Weasley's private room.

"Good evening Mrs Weasley, Minister."

"Good evening Lucy. How are you? You weren't around yesterday to say hello to."

"I'm very well thank you, Mrs Weasley. My sister went in to labour, I was asked to hold her hand as her husband is in Romania studying dragons."

"So is my son, perhaps they know each other?"

"Wouldn't that be wonderful?"

A brief moment of normalcy before reality intruded. "Well, Fred, it's time for your potions dear boy…" and, as an aside, "I took the liberty of including his daily nutrients so that you don't have to try and feed him. I know how stressful it's been for you, Molly, to watch us make a mess of your handsome young man."


End file.
